


Come Back to Me

by bakerswiife



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: AU, F/M, Modern Day, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, everlark, military!peeta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakerswiife/pseuds/bakerswiife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peeta Mellark has been working in the military for as long as he can remember but when an accident that costs him his leg sends him home, he doesn't realize how much he's changed. Once he's sent home, new challenges are to be faced. He struggles with PTSD, nightmares, flashbacks, depression and a crumbling marriage and begins to wonder if it can ever be saved. Modern Day AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Home

A/N: Big thanks to my Beta, Maleday, for helping me with this story! Make sure to check out her fanfiction.net, she’s a brilliant writer! 

Happy Reading!

Tonight won't be an easy night to get through. It’s even worse than every other night since Peeta's been gone. There are so many feelings surging through my body, it's too overwhelming. I don't know what I'm feeling; I'm excited, nervous, scared and anxious all at the same time, and it's all because tomorrow I'll be seeing the face of my husband who's been gone on deployment for almost a year now. 

I roll over to his side of the bed and see that the clock reads only 2:33 am. I sigh and bring my face to Peeta's pillow. Although very faint, I still pick up the scent of cinnamon and dill, his usual smell from baking all day. I refused to change his pillowcase after he left because even the smell of him made me feel like he was still here somehow. With nothing but bad news for the last few weeks, I’ve practically washed it with my tears anyway.

I'll never forget the phone call I got telling me that Peeta had been caught in a land mine explosion. I’d held my breath, fearing the worst, until they told me he’d lost the bottom part of his left leg. He’d have to wear a prosthetic for the rest of his life. The panic that I felt in that moment was like no other, my knees buckled beneath me and I fell to the ground in a fit of sobs that shook my body. I knew things like this happened. But the hardest part was not being there to comfort him and tell him everything was going to be alright, or see how the surgery was going and how he’d adjust to his prosthetic.

That moment brought me back to when I was only eleven years old and my father died in a car accident and I'd felt the same way, completely out of control.

I had known that being a military wife in the middle of war would be a challenge; not knowing how he was doing everyday and not being able to see his face all the time like I used to. It's the worst feeling in the world knowing that the person you love the most has their life on the line. Anything horrible could happen at any moment and you never know what's going on. I lived for those 15 minutes when I got to talk to him every few days. I made sure write him letters and he'd write back often. Packages were commonly sent to him too, photos of his family and I so that he'd have something from home to look at once in a while. 

Having all these heartbreaking memories enter my mind make tears well up in my eyes and I know I'll need to take some sleeping pills tonight in order to get a full amount of sleep.

Tomorrow definitely isn't going to be easy.

8 hours later…

I'm awoken by the obnoxious beeping of my alarm clock beside me. I groan and press the snooze button before remembering that today is the day. The day that Peeta will finally come home. 

I take a quick shower and put on Peeta's favourite dress of mine. It's orange, sunset orange to be exact, and it's his favourite colour. I take the pearl necklace he gave me before he left and do it up around my neck. Although I typically leave my hair in a side braid, Peeta loves when I wear it down so I decide to keep it that way.

It's almost twelve in the afternoon when I hear a light knock on my door that can only be Annie Odair. I open the door to see that she's wearing a pretty blue dress that reaches just above her knees. She holds her and Finnick’s son, Finn, in her arms and the boy plays with her wavy red hair that falls down beside her face. He's only three years old, but he knows enough about what his father does and why he's gone.

"Hey Katniss, are you excited for today?" Annie asks as she makes her way into the house and shuts the door carefully behind her.

"More than ever," I breathe out, "Good to see Finn's coming along." I smile down at the little boy, now sitting on the ground. Finnick and Peeta both joined the army after high school. It’s nice to have good friends like Finnick and Annie who are in the same situation as us. I can always turn to Annie for a shoulder to cry on. Finnick had also lost a limb, just like Peeta. It’s a shame he lost his arm because he was such an excellent swimmer.

"We should get going now, shouldn't we?" Annie asks patiently.

I nod. "I just want to make sure everything is organized for when he comes home." I tell her. She gives a weak smile, and slips on her jacket and picks up little Finn from the ground. He's a quiet boy, he doesn't giggle or smile often. 

The three of us pile into one car, Finn is sitting in the back and Annie in the passenger seat. We're supposed to drive to a large gym with all the other families who are expecting their husbands or boyfriends or sons to arrive back home.

Annie clutches my hand that's resting on the stick shift of the small car. "I can't believe we get to see them today," she says enthusiastically.

I can only nod because if I start talking about it now, I'll start crying like I usually do when I talk about Peeta. 

We finally pull up to the city’s main recreation centre. There's barely any parking spots left, so we drive around for a good while until we finally come across one. 

Annie carries a poster for Finn that says "Welcome Home Daddy!" and in my hand, I carry a sign saying "Welcome Home Peeta!" in large writing. It's a common thing to do, because the place is so crowded and the soldiers are all dressed the same making it hard to find who you’re looking for.

When we enter the room, it's filled almost completely and there are children holding signs, wives and mothers, sisters and all of the veterans family packed into one room to welcome them home. It's overwhelming to see how many people there are in one place.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Annie asks, looking around at all the crowds of people. I can only imagine how emotional it's going to be for all of them when the loved ones arrive. I made sure to bring tissues because there's not a chance that I won't be crying.

Finally, the large screen at the front of the room turns on, you can see the veterans getting off the plane at the airport. They're all in familiar uniforms and many are battered and wounded, but that doesn't matter. I can't spot Peeta because there's so many of them. Tears sting my eyes as I stare longingly at the screen. Annie is at my side and she's teary eyed as well, and of course Finn doesn't have a single clue what's going on. 

After the veterans get off the plane and pick up their baggage, they'll be brought over by bus. The room is eerily silent as everyone waits for the bus to arrive.

"What time are they coming at again?" Annie asks.

"Should be a twenty minute bus ride from the airport to here, so they'll be coming shortly." I force a smile. Not shortly enough.

After another ten minutes go by, the large doors on each side of the gym open and the multitude of men start coming into the gym looking for their families. I see a swarm of army green as they eagerly walk towards their families. Some are limping, battered and wounded. They look so different from when I last saw them. 

Annie and I both look at each other and raise our posters hoping that Peeta and Finnick will see.

"They should have found us by now." Annie frowns as she looks around on alert, trying to spot them. It's been roughly five minutes since they entered.

Before I can say anything to Annie, I feel a pair of arms snake their way around my waist. The poster drops from my hands and I turn around to see a pair of beautiful blue eyes gazing down at me. They're welled with tears and when I finally break out in a large grin, they're running down his face. I pull his body to me and hug him for as long as I can. His arms are strong and tanned, and make me feel safer than I've ever felt before. I look up to see him again and he's still grinning so I wrap my arms around his neck and force his lips to crash down on mine. His lips are chapped, but they still feel so familiar, I can't let go. 

"I missed you so much," I whimper, I reach up to wipe my tears again and he gives a weak smile.

"I missed you too," He says, "You look beautiful." He grins.

I can only blush in response because I'm at a loss for words. His hair is still buzzed short, but his face looks the same: kind and handsome. His structure is more built and strong now, and his skin is tanned with faint bruises and scars, but other than that he's still the Peeta I remember.

Annie finds us and Finn is giggling and smiling as Finnick cradles him with his one arm. It's beautiful to see him smile, because since Finnick left it wasn’t common that I’d see Finn in such a joyful mood. Annie pulls Peeta into a long hug, and I do the same with Finnick. It's been a long awaited reunion.

After the ceremony ends, Peeta and Finnick find our car. The drive seems long and awkwardly quiet. Finnick and Annie sit in the back quietly gazing at little Finn who’s in complete awe at seeing his father again. Peeta sits silently in the passenger seat while he gazes longingly out the side window. I’m surprised by his quietness, because Peeta is usually so talkative. I decide that it’s probably because he’s in awe from finally returning home.  
Finally, we arrive home after dropping the Odair’s off. Peeta's eyes open wide when we pull up to the driveway of our house.

I eagerly step out of the car. Peeta does the same but walks towards the trunk to retrieve his bag. That's when I notice his awful limp. I almost completely forgot about his new leg.

"Peet, let me grab that for you." I say with a forced smile. I take the bag out of his hands.  
"I’m fine." He insists and takes the bag back from me.

I frown in confusion because he looks so genuinely upset about this. "But you're leg!" I protest, following him towards the front door.

"I can do it okay?" he grumbles as he starts walking up the front steps. 

Alarmed by his uncharacteristic attitude, I try to remember if it is one of the symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. After his diagnosis at the hospital on base, I’d done some reading on it. I remember reading that once a soldier comes back from the military, they don't like to be reminded that they've lost a limb, or that they have a disability. They don't like when people offer to do things for them because they just want to feel normal. It seems that even with his prescription medicine, there’ll still be signs of PTSD that we’ll have to face together. 

I decide to change the subject instead. "Look familiar?" I ask.

"Mhmm," Peeta hums as he walks closer to the house, "It doesn't look like anythings changed."

"That's because it hasn't," I chuckle, "I didn't change a thing." I wanted things to be the same when Peeta got back, because the adjustment is hard enough and getting used to new surroundings would only make it harder for him.

I turn the lock and we enter the house. Peeta takes in the sight of our small home and inhales deeply. It's all coming back to him.

"I missed it here." He sighs as he sets down his bag and walks further into the house.

I give him a weak smile, "It's sure been lonely without you."

He turns around and walks towards me again and envelopes me in another hug. "I'm sorry," he whispers. His face is rested on my shoulder and I can feel a tear escape from his eye and hit my skin.

"It's okay, Peeta," I mumble, "You're here now, and that's all that matters to me."

I hear another sniffle and try hard not to break down myself because I know it'll only make him feel worse. 

I should have never left," he says.

I shake my head. "You're brave Peeta, it's what you had to do,” I tell him. He nods his head and I still hear more sniffles escape from him.

"Hey," I say, "It's okay." His face comes up from my shoulder and I stand on my tiptoes to wipe the tears that are leaving streaks on his smooth face.

He nods his head and I kiss him hard and firm on the lips. They taste like salt since his tears have even managed to reach there, but I don't care. I keep kissing him until he stops crying and he finally says something again. 

"Thank you," he says, "but I should be the one comforting you."

I can only give him a sad smile. "It doesn't have to be that way, you deserve comfort too."

I go around with him to look through the rest of the house. He finds his old paint brushes and stares at the old paintings he did. The look on his face makes me smile. He’s finally back where he belongs.

When we get to the bedroom the first thing he does is crash down onto the bed. He spreads himself out like a starfish and lies face down. I lay beside him and run my fingers through his short hair. I can only imagine what it feels like to be in a nice king size bed compared to a small and uncomfortable cot.  
Peeta calls his family to tell them he's back safe. We’ll be visiting them tomorrow. We didn't want to overwhelm him today, even though I'm sure he would have liked to have visited everyone. Uncle Haymitch was supposed to come for dinner, but he was no where near sober enough to even function properly.

I make a warm, home cooked meal of lamb stew which is both of our favourites. He seems to savour every bite he takes and I just stare at him eating it because he looks so pleased. 

"This is the best meal I've had in a long time," he sighs.

"I bet," I laugh, "What was the food like there?"

"Horrible," he groans, "The MRE's were all disgusting."

MRE stands for "Meals Ready to Eat." It's food that comes in a package. I can only remember the disgust in Peeta's voice when he’d described his menu over the phone. 

"That's probably because you have such high standards." I giggle as I spoon another bite of the hot stew into my mouth. 

"True." Peeta laughs.

I try not to ask too much about his leg, because the incident with carrying his bag into the house earlier makes me wonder if he's still sensitive about it and I can only bet that he is. I haven't even seen it yet, but I'll have to at some point.

He tells me he's tired afterwards, and all he wants to do is go to bed. I can’t say I’m thrilled that he wants to go to bed so soon. I try not to feel offended and just attribute to his long day, but apart of me can’t help but be disappointed at his lack of interest. 

I remove the thought from my mind and follow him up to bed and begin to get ready. Just as I finish slipping my pajamas on, I hear sounds of frustration coming from the master bathroom. 

"Peeta?" I knock on the door to see if it's okay to enter. I only hear a huff in response.

"Come in," he murmurs. I turn the handle and enter the bathroom where I see him sitting on the edge of the tub in his boxer briefs. It's the first time that I see his prosthetic that goes from his foot to his knee. It looks like a regular foot at the bottom, but as it goes up it looks confusing and uncomfortable. His short hair is mussed like it is when he runs his fingers through it in anger.  
"Need help?" I ask him calmly. I don't wait for a response, I crouch down and take off his lower leg prosthetic in one easy try.  
"I just hate it," he groans, "I hate that I have to wear this, I hate that I'm not normal anymore I hate that-"

"Shh!" I cut him off and sit down beside him. "Not having your lower leg doesn't make you any different," I tell him, "You're still Peeta and I still love you no matter what. Stop beating yourself up over this, please."I lean my head against his shoulder.

"Fine," he says, "Let's just get to bed." He kisses my cheek delicately before clumsily standing up. I come to his left side and help him walk towards the bedroom.

"Did you take your pills?" I ask. He nods his head as I help him sit down onto the bed. Besides his PTSD related pills, he's been taking anti-depressants since he lost his leg.

I make my way to my side of the bed and slump down on the firm mattress. I roll over to Peeta whose eyes are already starting to close. I move as close to him as I possibly can and he hastily wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me closer. My head rests against his chest where I hear the steady beat of his heart.

"I missed this," he yawns, "you and my lying here."

I move up to kiss his cheek, "Me too." I smile.

"I love you," he says and that's all I catch before I fall fast asleep into what I assume will be a restful night at last. That all changes when I wake up to hear screaming and thrashing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> Thank you for reading! This is the start of my new multi-chapter fanfic that I've been planning for a long time. There was a lot of research and planning I had to do to start this story, so I hope I was accurate when describing things about Peeta's time in the military. If I did seem to get things wrong in some parts I apologize, and please let me know so I can fix it!
> 
> Acknowledgements go to Sprinkleslol441 who has helped me plan and give advice for this story. She has recently started her own everlark fanfiction so make sure to check that out!  
> Another acknowledgement goes to Plumgal1899 who gave me some very smart and helpful advice with this story. She's a brilliant writer so make sure to check her everlark fanfictions out! And last but not least my lovely Beta, Maleday.
> 
> You can find me on fanfiction . net as well!  
> Feel free to follow me on tumblr at bakerswiife (dot) tumblr (dot) com


	2. Nightmares

A/N: Thanks to my Beta, Maleday, for helping me with this chapter! 

I wake to the sound of screaming.

I knew this would happen eventually, but not the first night he came back. I feel a jolt of panic when I look over to his side of the bed. His eyes are screwed shut, his brow furrowed. His fists ball up the white sheets and even in the dim light I can see his knuckles turning white.

I don't know what to do, whether to wake him or not. I've heard that waking someone who is having a nightmare could be even more frightening to them. I have no idea how to approach him without scaring him. Feeling utterly helpless, I tear up as I stare at his shaking form. I can't stand to see him this way. My gut twists in pain to have to watch him struggle like this.

After contemplating, I decide that it's best to wake him, because if it were the other way around, I know Peeta would do the same for me. I think it's better than living through the nightmare any longer.

"Peeta, it's okay, wake up." I say calmly. I try shaking him awake but he only struggles more and I'm violently pushed off of his body and back where I started. He calls out in his sleep, shouting "Get down!" or "Go!" over and over. Some of it I can't make out, because they're mumbled, or military terms that I don't understand.

"Peeta, it's not real!" I shout. Tears stream down my face and my hands tremble, knowing that he could lash out again at any moment.

"Stop!" Peeta shouts. He groans again with a pained expression plastered on his face. I can hear his heart beating so rapidly; it's pounding harder and harder in his chest with each passing second. His head is hot to the touch and breaking out in a sweat.

I have no idea what to do anymore; I've tried everything I can think of that won't hurt or startle him. I don't want to leave him like this, and I know that I can't. Even though this terror seems much more extreme, it reminds me of when Prim and I were young. She'd have nightmares and the only thing to calm her down was when I sang to her the song that my father had taught us before he died.

I'm not sure if it will work, but it's my only option left. I make sure that I'm close and loud enough so that he can hear clearly. I stroke his head soothingly as I begin to sing:

Deep in the meadow, under the willow

a bed of grass, a soft green pillow

lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes

and when you wake the sun will rise

Here it's safe, here it's warm

here the daisies guard you from harm,

here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true  
here is the place where I love you.

After I finish the song and I open my eyes, I see that his body has gone still. He's no longer stiff and tense. He's relaxed, which gives me a feeling of relief.

His bright blue eyes open slowly. They stare blankly up at the ceiling.

"Peeta?" I ask. I sit up alert, looking down on his lying form. I remember how hot he is and quickly jump out of bed and into the bathroom to grab him a cold cloth.

"Take this, it'll help." I tell him. I set the cloth on his forehead and begin to wipe the sweat off.

"Katniss, wha- what happened?" he asks. His faced looks shocked, almost all the color drained from it.

"You were having a nightmare," I say quietly, brushing the damp hair off of his wet forehead.

He squeezes his eyes shut and runs his hands across his face before giving a disappointed grunt.

"I'm sorry," he says, "I wish I could control it. I didn't mean to wake you."

Of course, he's apologizing for something out of his control. It almost makes me mad, how well mannered he is.

"It's okay," I smile weakly. "Don't apologize, I'm just glad you're okay now."

He lets out a long sigh; still looking as if he's mad at himself. "I don't even remember what happened, I just remember feeling you and hearing your voice."

"I guess that's a good thing." I tell him. "You seemed so scared, I didn't know what to do," I admit. I snuggle into his side up against the headboard and I feel the much calmer beat of his heart.

"I guess so," he shrugs. "I just wish I could stop them. It'd be so much easier for the both of us."

"I know," I reassure. "But it doesn't work that way, we'll get through it together." I give him a quick peck on his chapped lips.

"Promise?" he asks.

"Promise," I assure him.

We lie there for a while; wrapped in each other's arms. Neither of us sleep. I'm too worried for him.

"Are you going back to sleep?" I question as I snuggle up closer to his warm body.

"No, not after all that. I'm afraid I'll have another one," he whispers.

I frown. "I'll stay awake with you, if you want." It'd make me feel better than leaving him to manage the darkness on his own.

He shakes his head. "No, it's fine. You go to sleep, I know you're tired."

"You sure?"

"Mhmm," he hums, "I'll be fine, get some sleep." He moves the stray hairs away from my face and kisses me on top of my head.

I don't object, my eyes feel rather drowsy and even if I did decide to stay up, I'm sure I'd fall asleep by accident. I make sure that I'm snuggled close to him before closing my eyes. It feels so nice to sleep next to his body like we used to.

My head rests on his chest again. Hearing the steady beat of his heart makes me feel content and assures me he's alright, at least for now.

When I wake up, there's a cool breeze coming through the window. Peeta must have opened them last night because that's the only way he's able to fall asleep; with the windows open.

I lazily turn to Peeta's side of the bed with a groan, only to see he's not there. It makes me think that he didn't actually come back, that I was just dreaming and I'm really waking up alone again like I used to. It's when I hear his noisy footsteps around the house that I remember otherwise.

I grab my green robe and gingerly walk down the stairs and into the kitchen where I see Peeta in front of the stove baking something that smells heavenly, that smell can only be my favourite.

"Cheese buns for breakfast?" I ask with a wide grin before I come up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist.

"Why not?" He asks. "It's your favourite isn't it?"

"Indeed it is."

"Well it's good I haven't lost my memory, too," he jokes. He takes the cheese buns out of the oven and leaves them to cool. I can't remember the last time I had them.

"They look delicious." I grin as I pick one up and set it on the clean white plate that's been set out in front of me.

"They should be, I think I got the recipe right. I haven't baked in so long." He takes a bite out of the cheese bun and closes his eyes as he savours the taste of it. I can't help but do the same. It's the best thing I've eaten in a long time.

"I take it you got your leg on fine this morning?" I ask tentatively.

Peeta nods. "It's getting easier, still a pain though." He sighs.

I give him a sympathetic look. "You'll get used to it," I say as I pick up his mug and plate and carry it towards the sink.

Afterwards, Peeta and I get ready to go meet his family for his welcome back party. I look forward to seeing Rye and Wheaton and and his father, but I'm not too fond of.

I decide not to dress up much; I slip on a plain baby blue top and a pair of dark denim jeans. Simple, but nicer than what I usually wear. I start to do my hair in it's usual side braid before wiping on a shade of light pink lipstick.

Today's one of those days where I actually feel good in the morning, where I can get out of bed normally, and I know it's because of my husband being back.

"C'mon we're going to be late!" Peeta hollers through the house. I quickly set down the lipstick and run towards the door.

"We'll have plenty of time to get there." I huff. I slip on my shoes and jacket and follow him out of the door.

"You excited to see your family again?" I ask.

"Everyone but my mother." He says glumly, climbing into the car and starting the engine. I frown knowingly. His mother is a selfish, controlling woman who's the exact opposite of her loving and understanding husband. It's sad that he's stuck with her because Mr. Mellark deserves so much better, and so do Peeta and his brothers. It's obvious that their personality comes from their father.

"You don't even have to talk to her," I assure him.

The car ride is quite long. Mr. and Mrs. Mellark live in one of the richest neighbourhoods in our city, Pump Hill, which has some of the largest and most beautiful homes in all of Calgary. It's always a treat to visit the Mellark's because of the beautiful area they live in.

We finally pull up to their house after the long drive over. The look on Peeta's face when he sees his old house is nothing but pure joy and excitement.

He intertwines our fingers as we walk towards the house. I can't remember the last time I'd been here since Peeta left. Usually Mr. Mellark and Peeta's brothers came to visit our house instead, because I was often too emotionally drained to leave.

We knock and right away Peeta's dad opens up the large wooden door almost like he'd been standing there waiting forever.

"Peeta, my boy!" Mr. Mellark almost sobs as he opens up his arms nice and wide so he can envelop Peeta in a warm hug. "I'm glad you made it back," he sniffs.

"And Katniss, so nice to see you again. You're looking better than ever." He grins and pulls me into a big hug just like how my father used to hug me.

When we walk into the house, it's filled with cheers and camera's as Peeta and I enter the room. There's a large sign pinned on the wall that reads "Welcome Back Peeta!". The living room is filled with all of Peeta's closest friends and family. I begin to choke up witnessing how many people care for Peeta. It's exactly what he deserves after everything he's been through.

"Thank you everyone!" Peeta says with a wide grin. "It's good to be back." His eyes are filled to the brim with tears of amazement and I can't believe it all myself. I had no idea how many people were really going to be here or how big the celebration would be. It's just as exciting and overwhelming as it was when he first came home yesterday, but even more special because it's with the people he loves most.

Everyone comes up and offers us hugs and words of kindness and congratulating Peeta on his arrival home. I spot Delly Cartwright off in the distance grabbing various desserts off the buffet table that lies in the dining room. Slowly, I lead her direction since she's one of his best friends.

As soon as she sees us, her eyes light up. She sets down her plate and eagerly throws her arms around Peeta.

"You're back!" She squeals in delight and she only hugs him tighter. Usually, it would bother me seeing another woman hugging my husband like this, but with Delly I know it's only friendly.

"I missed you so much, you have no idea," she says in his ear. Her body is still pressed closely to his and I count the seconds until finally he pulls away from her.

"Missed you too, Dells." He gives her quick peck on the cheek. I grind my teeth and roll my eyes. Her and Peeta have been the best of friends since before I got to know them; they'd spend every minute together in High School. They were nearly inseparable. He claims it's just like Gale and I…

Peeta goes around and talks to more of his friends and his brothers who hug him tightly, which is something rarely seen between the three of them. They usually tease and bicker at each other when they're together.

Drifting off, I find Annie and Finnick in a far corner chatting with each other. Finn is just at their feet.

"Haven't seen you in a while," Finnick winks.

"Seems like forever," I tease. "So, how was Finnick's first night home?" I ask in a low voice, leading her away from the crowded room.

"Rough," she sighs, looking down at the hardwood floor, "He didn't seem like himself."

"I get it. Last night was rough for Peeta, too. He had a nightmare, and couldn't get his leg off. He was so upset about it." It really hurt to see him in a way I'd never seen before. Though, it was what I was supposed to expect; I'd been warned about his change in demeanor.

"Sorry to hear," she frowns, "I'm thinking about recommending Finnick to a therapist if it gets worse. I mean, it's only been his first day back, he was probably just overwhelmed, I'm going to have to keep it in mind though."

"Do you mind telling me who you were thinking of recommending to him? I might consider it myself, if it gets any worse," I say.

"Yeah for sure." Annie says, reaching into her purse. "Here's his card, call anytime if you need to. Another military wife recommended him to me, his name is Dr. Aurelius."

"Thanks," I say, taking the card. "I'm going to get back and visit a little more." I sneak back into the crowd of people and find Peeta again. I make sure to slip the card into my pocket before Peeta sees it. It's best it's kept a secret until it really becomes necessary.

I find him right away, but my heart sinks when I see his mother just stalking away from him. Peeta's now slumped posture shows clearly that it hadn't been a pleasant exchange. I quickly approach him before anyone else can claim his attention and clasp his hands encouragingly. When I look up at his face, he's already put a smile on for me.

"Hey you," he kisses me sweetly on the cheek. "Where were you, you disappeared?"

"Just talking to Annie is all." I shrug before giving him a grim look and asking, "How's your mother?" Peeta grimaces, but only shakes his head.

"That bad?" He forces another smile and shrugs a shoulder. Curse that woman for knowing exactly how to hurt her son.

"You ready to go? I'm just about beat." He yawns as he rests his head on top of my head and embraces me from behind. I'm reluctant to leave, knowing it will only let Mrs. Mellark feel as though she won a victory. I'd planned on confronting her, but since Peeta wants to leave, we'll have to leave her with the feeling of satisfaction and defeat.

"How about we say goodbye and then head out?" I suggest. He nods his head and unwraps his arms from around my waist. We say goodbye to everyone, giving many hugs, and receive many words of kindness. I'm somewhat glad it's all over.

We quickly escape from the front entrance and hop into the car. It's nearly nine o'clock when we arrive home, which is early for me but Peeta's been tired and worn out all day from the lack of sleep he got.

When we arrive at the house after a long drive, I find Peeta asleep in the passenger seat. I have to shake him awake in order for him to get up, but I almost hesitate to because he looks so peaceful sleeping there.

"Peet, we're home," I say soothingly, rubbing his arm. He lets out a low groan as he begins to wake up.

I lead him towards the house because he's still half asleep. He's walking slower than ever. When we reach the bedroom, he hastily detaches his leg and is left with a stump. He frowns when he sees it.

"Hey," I say, forcing his chin up to look at me, "Just think of it as a reminder of how hard you fought, not as something to be ashamed of." He nods but still looks defeated. He lies down on his side and pulls the covers up to his chin. He's too tired to even get ready for bed tonight.

I lie next to him and wrap my arms around his torso. "You're not going to tell me what she said?" I ask in a low whisper. He only stiffens, despite my curiosity, I regret bringing it up. "You okay?"

"I don't know," he mutters under his breath. "I'm just upset that I'm not the same person that I used to be, I'm just tired and I just...I don't feel like myself sometimes."

"We'll figure it out, we promised each other we'd get through this together, remember?"

"I remember," he says groggily. "Let's talk about this tomorrow."

He quickly kisses my forehead and then my mouth chastely and turns to his side. It's then I realize that he really is acting different. Maybe it's just tonight, but I miss the nights when we were so passionate and in love. Now it seems like he's letting this horrible tragedy take over his life. I know that if I don't act on this soon, I might not be able to get the old, joyful and loving Peeta and back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> Thanks for reading! Make sure to leave a review and tell me what you thought. Sorry it was a little bit of a wait for the update! 
> 
> Also, I’m contemplating as to whether or not I should switch POV’s, that can sometimes be annoying, but I want to know what you guys think.
> 
> For the setting, I decided to make it in the city I live in, Calgary which is in Canada. Just because I know so much about it since I do live here, and it’s a modern day AU so why not?
> 
> Again, thank you for reading! I plan on updating rather quickly since this story is gaining quite a few readers which is always nice so thank you!


	3. Under the Willow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my Beta, Maleday for helping me with this story!

The second night goes smoother than the night before. Peeta doesn’t have any nightmares, but it’s me who doesn’t get any sleep this time around. I find myself constantly worrying for him. It’s scary knowing that my husband could wake screaming in terror at any moment. I refuse to take any sleeping pills because I’m worried that if I do, I’ll be too deep in slumber to wake up and help him. I lie awake on our bed, my arms are wrapped around his torso, and my head rests against the strong planes of his back. He used to put his arms around me too, another thing that’s changed. He’s not as affectionate as he once was. He’s trying, I know he is but sometimes it seems like he only does for my sake, and that hurts.

I know that Peeta still loves me, it’s evident enough. I know how hard he’s struggling with this sudden curveball he’s been thrown. I only hope once he gets adjusted to the new life, that we mend our relationship. Realistically, since he’s only been back two days and it’s started like this, I know it will only get worse before it gets better.

I wake in the morning to find him in the kitchen preparing breakfast just as he usually does since he wakes up much earlier than I do. That’s something that hasn’t changed.

“Morning,” he mumbles from his spot in the kitchen. He’s chopping up a variety of vegetables for our omelettes. “How’d you sleep?” He asks.

The truth is, awful. I was up most of the night, left with my own negative thoughts. 

“It was fine.” I say. Although it’s a lie, it’s better than making him feel worse than he already does about everything. Knowing him, he’d blame himself.

He doesn’t say anything after that and the only sound to be heard throughout the house is the sound of the knife slicing through the vegetables and meeting the cutting board. I sit at the kitchen table sipping a mug of hot coffee and watching Peeta cook. I don’t bother to help, because we both know that with my kitchen skills, I’d only make things worse.

“God damnit!” He shouts in anger. His sudden outburst startles me, it’s not like him to curse either. I immediately get up and rush to his aid. There’s blood gushing from his index finger into the eggs. I look from the blood to his face, confused by his lack of response. He just stands there frozen, without any emotion, watching the blood continue to slowly ooze out of his finger as if mesmerized by it.

“Hey, it’s okay.” I barely whisper. My hand moves on it’s own, but I stop it. Unsure of whether to touch him. “Let’s clean that up and get a bandage on it right away,” I say as calmly as I can. My voice sounds nervous, even to me. It’s not a large cut, but it’s deep and bleeding all over the place. I run up the stairs towards our bathroom to grab some gauze and polysporin.

I race back down the stairs, but freeze when I enter the kitchen. Peeta’s hands grip the kitchen chair like a vice. His eyebrows are furrowed and his face is locked in a painful grimace.  
“Peeta?” I ask tentatively. When there’s no response, I rush to his side. Blood is dripping onto the wood floor, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Peeta, it’s okay. Whatever your feeling or experiencing right now, it’s not real.” I tell him firmly as I lightly brush my hand up and down his back. “You’re okay, you’re here now, just breathe.” I move the damp blonde locks of his hair from his red forehead. 

“You’re okay, nothing bad is going to happen to you,” I say comfortingly into his ear as I continue to stroke his back.

“I’m back home now, real or not real?” He asks, his jaw clenched tight. His voice still trembles with his body.

“Real.” I try to force my voice to sound calm, despite the adrenaline. “You’re safe Peeta. You’re with me now, there’s no war.” 

He seems to struggle with whatever he’s thinking about before suddenly releasing his grip on the back of the chair. His face starts to return to it’s normal colour again. He stumbles into my arms and lets out a long, shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

“Shh,” I say. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” 

We stand like this for a long while until he stops shaking and he stands tall again. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.

“The blood, it’s just- I just was...brought back to when…” He trails off and fails to finish his sentence. I think I get what he means though. The blood must have reminded him of seeing all the badly battered and wounded soldiers. It could have brought him back to his own injury… I wince and shake my head to rid myself of the image that thought brings. It’s no wonder the little things like blood can trigger such a flashback.

I give him a sad smile. “Let’s get you bandaged up.” I suggest, leading him over to a kitchen chair and gesturing for him to take a seat. He sits patiently as I pull up a chair in front of him and begin to disinfect the wound. His body is tense and he’s turned toward the window. Taking the white gauze, I wrap it around his finger, and make sure it stays tight enough with medical tape. If my mother weren’t a doctor, I’d probably be clueless.

“You’re done, it’s all good now,” I say with a smile. His eyes move towards his finger and he lets out a deep sigh.

“Thanks,” he murmurs. He sits there with a blank look on his face, but I assume he’s processing what just occurred.

“Forget about breakfast right now, how about we go for a walk.” I offer. He doesn’t object but only gives a nod of his head. I tell him I’ll be right back and rush upstairs to change out of my pajamas. Quickly, I slip on a pair of gray sweatpants and a hoodie. Grabbing a bag, I fill it with Peeta’s sketchbook and pencils. I’m back in the kitchen where Peeta awaits in a matter of seconds, anxious about leaving him alone even that long.

Hopefully getting him out of the house for a breath of fresh air will be good for him. A change of scenery may make it easier for Peeta to let go of whatever memory he had.

We gingerly walk out of the door, my fingers are intertwined with his. It’s a simple gesture, but it still brings back memories of our walks pre-deployment. We’d walk until finding a spot to sit and he’d sketch while I’d watch his skillful hands work and bring a beautiful scene to life.

“What’s in the bag?” he asks. A smirk plays across his delicate features. It thrills me to see an emotion other than fear on his face.

“You’ll see.” I tell him. We continue to walk hand in hand, the morning air is warm, and the grass is covered in a little layer of dew droplets from last night. He knows where we’re going, this is the trail we walked so many times. One of the great things about our neighbourhood is that it’s so close to Calgary’s provincial park, Fish Creek. The park is mainly in the south end, but is big enough that it reaches to the downtown core. Going here is something we’d do almost every summer weekend, just to enjoy the outdoors and beautiful weather that we hardly get.

We find our favourite tree to sit under, a large willow tree that stands out among the rest due to it’s height and draping branches. We nestle under it and I pull out Peeta’s sketch pad and set it on his lap. A large grin graces his features as he recognizes it. 

“I remember doing this,” he says, “I almost forgot about it.”

“I figured it’d be a good escape,” I tell him, “A change of scenery is good for you.”

“We could bring our kids here one day,” he suggests as he wraps his free arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer to his side.

“Maybe,” I say weakly. Having children was never really apart of my plan, and as much as I want Peeta to have children of his own, I can’t see how I’d be a suitable mother and with Peeta’s condition, he’s not fit to be a father right now anyway.

His hand begins to work and at first they’re just lines of charcoal, but somehow those charcoal lines will make up something beautiful in the end.

It fascinates me to watch him draw. The way he looks when he sketches is so captivating to me. His pink tongue peeks out the side of his mouth and his eyes are deep in focus, examining the sheet of paper and quickly planning where to plot the next detail of the picture that is slowly coming together.

We don’t need to talk, just hearing the nature around us and being next to each other is enough. The morning sky casts an orange glow over Fish Creek making everything look even more glorious. The park is so loved by the city because of it’s beauty and the sense of escape you feel once you’re walking in it. It’s so different from the busy and industrial city.

After a half hour or so, Peeta gently taps my shoulder, bringing me back to reality. 

“You ready for the big reveal?” Peeta gleams. I nod my head eagerly and he flips open his sketchbook to the last page he was on. I don’t recognize who it is at first, but when I take a closer look, I realize it must be me.

“Is that...is that me?” I ask in disbelief. It’s so detailed and the woman he’s drawn on the sheet of previously blank paper looks so young and beautiful. The braid he’s drawn so intricately is the only way to tell that it’s me he intended to depict.

Peeta lets out a low chuckle. “Of course it is. Who else?” 

“That’s how you see me?” I ask, my eyebrows are raised as high as they go.

“Mhm, except you’re much more beautiful in real life.” Peeta says sweetly. “Why do you find it so hard to believe?” 

My eyes still scan over the elaborate sketch, examining each feature one by one and recognizing each as being close to my own. “Because I look, well, I look so beautiful in your drawing but really I’m just-” I’m cut off by his next words.

“Katniss,” he sighs, “Stop. You are beautiful.” He kisses the top of my head, letting his lips linger there for a while. I hate being mushy, so I choose not to say anything. Instead, I turn to meet his lips. This is what he should really draw: us sitting there under the tree letting our mouths roam over each other’s. It feels so impossibly good, I don’t want him to stop.

I finally pull away from him and take a breath, and I immediately miss the feeling of his lips. 

“Thank you Peeta,” I murmur, “You’re so talented, you know that right?”

“I do now,” He laughs, “I’m glad you like it.”

We sit there for a good while, admiring the beauty of nature around us. One of the things I love most about Peeta is that he sees the true beauty in things that most people take for granted. His eyes examine the pretty pinks, purples and oranges that dance across the sky. His blue eyes are in a daze as he gazes upwards. I choose to stare at him instead, because seeing the look of pure bliss and happiness upon his face is something I haven’t seen too much of recently. I choose to admire it while I can.  
Already, today feels like Peeta has started to come back and act like his normal self. I know it won’t last forever and that it is a treat to do this sort of thing, but it’s beautiful nonetheless.

By the time we reach the house, our drunken neighbour Haymitch is sitting cheerily in his front yard with a bottle of white liquor in hand.

“Hey sweetheart, wondered where you two were today.” Haymitch slurs as he gets up from the old lawn chair and walks across the street to greet us. 

“Almost thought I’d never see you come back!” Haymitch hollers at Peeta before slapping him on the back and pulling him into a sloppy hug.

“Missed you too, Haymitch.” Peeta replies. And as crazy as it is, I know he means it. Peeta’s always had a soft spot for the man. 

“How about you come over for a little and we’ll catch up.” Haymitch offers before taking another swig of his drink. He looks at me deliberately, as though challenging me to object. I narrow my eyes but stay silent. Haymitch was a war veteran himself, and I definitely don’t want my husband to take his route of recovery.

Peeta nods in agreement before waving a quick goodbye to me and following the stumbling alcoholic over to his house. I’m not sure that I want him hanging around Haymitch, but I can at least give him some freedom and space from me. Haymitch might even be able to help.

Haymitch turns and gives me a self-satisfied smirk.

“I’ll take good care of him, sweetheart.” He mocked smugly.

As soon as I enter the kitchen, my eyes meet a bloody mess on the floor. Although I’m not very fond of Peeta hanging around Haymitch, I’m thankful for the chance to clean up because him seeing this could have triggered yet another flashback.

The house is spotless by the time I finish, and Peeta soon arrives, walking through the door and slumping down on the large sofa. 

Eventually, I join Peeta in the living room where he rests on the couch watching the rest of the hockey game that I couldn’t care any less for.

“Hey,” he says lazily as I come and sit down beside him.

“Can I talk to you about something?” I ask.

“Mhm, anything.” 

I’m nervous as to how he’ll react when I bring up the idea of therapy, but it’s worth a shot. It’ll have to be a conversation at some point whether I like it or not. 

“You know when I was talking to Annie the other day at the party?” I question. He nods his head.

“Well, she was saying that Finnick is suffering with his PTSD too, and that she was going to take him to a therapist to help him out. I think it’d be a good idea if we maybe took a look into it and tried it out, to help you.” I say a little too quickly. I know this will be a touchy subject for him.

“But I am getting better, Katniss.” he argues, but even he knows it’s not true.

“Peeta it’s only been the second day back, and there’s been one flashback, and one nightmare. I think you could use some help,” I offer “Another military wife suggested him to Annie and apparently he really knows what he’s doing.” 

“I don’t know,” he mutters, “I’m not sure if I’m ready for all this.” 

I sigh, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. “I can come in with you, and I’ll be there for you every step of the way. You don’t have to be in there alone, and I think we could really get things back together if we did this.” 

“I’ll think about it.” He groans.

“This will help Peeta, you’ll get better, I promise.”


	4. Seperation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> I apologize for the long awaited update. Writers block can be a pain, but thankfully with the help of my beta, Maleday we got it done! Big thanks to her and her wonderful writing and editing skills. Thanks for being patient, and I hope this chapter was worth the long wait.
> 
> Also, the last three chapters have been edited with the help of my Beta, there has been some small parts added into it to improve the story. You can go back and read, or send me a PM if you want me to fill you in. One important one is that Haymitch was introduced a little bit in Chapter 3, and was mentioned to be a retired war veteran. That’ll be an important one to know so that this chapter will make more sense.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, happy reading!

Triggers: Blood

 

That’s the first thing I write down on the notebook I’ve decided to use to keep track of all the things that trigger Peeta’s flashbacks. Based on yesterday’s thunderstorm incident, I have to add loud noises to the list.

 

Actually, making a list was Dr.Aurelius’s idea. I called him earlier this week. I know that I shouldn’t have gone behind Peeta’s back, but after my conversation with the doctor, I’m glad I did. It was so reassuring to know someone knew all about Peeta’s disorder, and that someone could help. While Peeta hasn’t gone to therapy yet, Dr. Aurelius assured me that keeping a record would help the process. And I was just glad to know that there was something I could do to help.

 

Symptoms:

 

-Nightmares

 

-Flashbacks

 

-Depression

 

-Angry outbursts

 

This is the list that follows, and Dr. Aurelius tells me that it is most likely to grow as new symptoms are discovered. He says it’s common, but it feels like I’m adding a new symptom to the list daily.

 

As relieved as I was when Peeta came back, it feels like my stress has increased exponentially since then. Peeta is progressively withdrawing into himself, and I can do nothing but watch and worry.

 

He’s pacing around the house again, as if trying to clear his mind. I observe from my spot at the kitchen table. He’s mumbling to himself, too quiet for me to make out.

 

-Pacing around house

 

I scribble this down on my notepad that I keep handy at all times. I’ve learned to become more observant of his behaviour now.

 

Finally, he stops. He looks up to meet my eyes, probably wondering why I’m staring so strangely at him.

 

“You okay?” I ask meekly. He nods his head and runs his fingers through his blonde hair that’s been growing back in. He turns and slowly walks up the stairs and I hear the door of his studio shut quietly.

 

I only sigh, I miss the old talkative Peeta, the Peeta who was so good with words. Before the war it seemed like he would never shut up sometimes, but now all I want is for him to talk. I miss his voice. All I get are quick nods of his head and short answers. I don’t think he realizes it, it’s become a habit of his now.

 

I leave him alone for the rest of the day, too stressed to deal with him. I find myself almost annoyed with him most of the time. I’m completely aware that he’s struggling, but he doesn’t accept my help, or anyone’s for that matter. He’s trying to face this new disorder alone when I know that he can’t and I’m sure he knows it too, he just doesn’t want to believe it.

 

He’d agreed to therapy, yes, but he says he’s not ready for it right now and that he wants to “wait a while,” which in reality means that he’s just going to keep holding it off until he thinks it’ll be forgotten about.

 

It isn’t until dinner that I see Peeta emerge from his studio upstairs. He gives me a weak smile as he slowly walks down the wooden steps, making sure he doesn’t stumble with his prosthetic leg.

 

“Smells good.” He says awkwardly as he takes a few steps onto the tile floor of the kitchen.

 

I throw down the kitchen towel in a huff and angrily move about the kitchen unable to believe that these are the first couple words he’s said all day.

 

“Yeah well I’ve been slaving away in the kitchen for the past hour.” I say coldly as I set down two plates of chicken set atop pearly white grains of rice.

 

He doesn’t say anything back, which only makes me more agitated than I was in the first place.

 

“Are you going to talk to me anymore, Peeta?” I ask. The hint of sadness in my voice is tangible.

 

He looks completely dumbfounded which only makes me roll my eyes. He opens his mouth to speak but I cut him off with my words.

 

“If you would just talk to me it’d make things so much easier around here!” I shout, my voice is shaking with anger and sadness. I’ve been keeping this all in for the past week, and it feels good to finally get it out.

 

He looks up from his plate, and I meet his watery blue eyes which are staring almost right through mine.

 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, shaking his head, “I- I just don’t know what I’m doing anymore.” His face is now in his hands and I can tell he’s about to break down.

 

I choose not to say anything, because I know that whatever I say next will only hurt him and add more fuel to the flame. I want to tell him how lonely I’ve felt the past couple weeks and how I miss him and his voice, but instead I keep quiet and we sit across from each other in an awkward silence. The only sounds to be heard are the tiny rain droplets falling from the sky and landing on the roof of our small house. The sky is a dull gray, and even darker gray clouds roll across it, reflecting the stormy sadness I’m feeling.

 

Peeta gingerly gets up from the table and takes my empty plate with him, setting them gently in the sink. I sit there for a while more, staring out the window as I see Peeta make his way back up the stairs out of the corner of my eye. Again, I hear the door close behind him as he enters his studio.

 

Unable to contain myself any longer, I break down in sobs that wrack my entire body as I think about the course of the entire day and how much things have changed in only a month.

 

I manage to keep my cries low, knowing that I can’t alert Peeta. It’ll only make him feel worse than he already does.

 

I’m brought back to the memories of his proposal, our wedding. Everything in the past seemed so wonderful and far off. Now we’re faced with the harsh reality of our new life and where it will take us, and so far it’s not looking too good. I know that I have to try and be at my best for him, be strong for him, and most importantly, stick by his side if things are to work.

 

I hastily wipe my eyes and stop moping. I’m sure they’re still red rimmed from sobbing so much, and I can’t let Peeta see that. Slowly and quietly, I make my way up the stairs towards the bathroom where I splash cold water over my face to try and rid the look of sadness that’s almost plastered over my face. It doesn’t help though.

 

After, I carefully knock on the solid wooden door of Peeta’s studio. I almost never go in there; Peeta likes to keep his artwork to himself. I stand there for a few moments, hoping that he’s not too upset with me and that he’ll hopefully open up the door.

 

“Peeta?” I call out. “Peeta, I know you’re probably mad at me, but if- if we could just sort things out it’d make me feel a lot better.” I choke out. I don’t let my sobs escape me though. I can’t let him pity me.

 

Finally, the door opens and I’m greeted by his tired and worn face. I automatically stumble into his chest and encircle my arms around his waist. I feel his strong arms wrap around me as well, and I know I won’t be the first to pull away. His touch is something I choose to savour now, while it lasts. Before his affection was something free, something that was given to me all the time, but now it’s limited.

 

He finally pulls away and I feel a sense of discomfort as soon as his arms leave my small waist. I now stand in front of his lean body, waiting for him to talk to me, to comfort me, to apologize. I know that I’m being selfish by expecting all this when he’s dealing with so much, but I feel as though I deserve it after everything.

 

He turns around and faces his easel situated in the corner of the room. This only makes me grow hot with anger.

 

“After all this, you choose to leave it at that? How dare you Peeta! I’ve waited a year, and now all you do is shut me out?” I shout.

 

“Katniss-”

 

“No Peeta, why won’t you let me help you huh? I told you I’d help you but you seem to doubt me!”

 

“I don’t doubt you, Katniss, but I feel like...I feel like I’m just weighing a heavy burden on you, and one that you don’t want. You have to take care of a husband who’s mentally ill and distant, and I know you don’t want that!”

 

I shake my head in disbelief. “Of course I don’t want this for us Peeta! But it is what it is, we can’t change what happened but we can try to help you, try to make things somewhat normal again, because what’s happening in our relationship right now isn’t normal.” Tears have welled up in my eyes and I consider just leaving the room because I can’t handle him seeing me like this. It makes me feel weak, and I know I am in some way, but letting him see me like this only makes me feel helpless and him feel bad for causing it.

 

“I know it’s not normal, Katniss! I wish that it were, but I can’t help what I’m feeling right now, and I wish I could, but I can’t!” He shouts before pinching the bridge of his nose and looks down at the paint splattered carpet.

 

“And that’s why I want you to get help, Peeta! That’s all I want for you. I hate seeing you suffer, I hate not getting to be around you all the time and I hate that you think that there’s no way out of this, because there is! You just won’t accept it.”

 

He lets out an angry sigh and punches a fist against the wall before knocking the still wet canvas off of the easel. Another outburst, I think.

 

“Peeta, stop.” I say sternly. He continues to pace around the room, his breathing is heavy and I can tell that he’s trying not to lash out at something, or better yet, someone.

 

“Katniss, just go.” He utters out, his breath still falling heavily.

 

“Peeta, no. I’m not gonna leave you like this!”

 

“Please, just go, I don’t want to hurt you.” He whimpers. His hands grab the edge of his desk in a tight grip, and I know this isn’t going to end well. I’ve seen his outbursts before, but never this violent.

 

Leaving him is what he wants, and I know he might end up hurting me, but with one more angry throw of his paintbrushes across the room I clumsily stumble out of the studio before Peeta can do anymore damage. I run out of the front door and into the rain. I grasp an oak tree for support, but my chest aches and I crouch to the ground as gross sobs escape me. Hot tears sting my eyes and make a small pool in my hands. I am losing control.

 

These past couple weeks, all I’ve felt is stress and anger. Angry at Peeta, at myself, our life. Now I’m finally able to really let it out, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders, but at the same time I know that things will continue to get worse.

 

Before I know it, Haymitch has burst through the front door of his house and has made his way over to me in the pouring rain.

 

“Haymitch I don’t need-”

 

“Yes you do, sweetheart. What’s gotten into you and the boy?” He says as he pulls me by the arms and brings me to my feet.

 

“Just help him Haymitch, please,” I sob. “You know more about this than I do.”

 

He frowns up at the window of Peeta’s studio and begins to walk towards house, turning back to give a reassuring smile. I take a minute to recollect myself, ridding my face of tears before I follow him inside. My clothes are completely soaked through, leaving my body chilled to the bone. I hesitate going back in, surely Peeta doesn’t want to see me like this, and I don’t want him to either.

 

Knowing it’s best to check on Peeta’s current state, I slowly make my way further into the house, careful not to disrupt anything. I hear yelling from Haymitch, followed by yelling from Peeta. I manage to make out the sound of stomping and shattering of unknown objects, I know that what I’m about to see won’t be pretty.

 

“I can’t take it anymore!” I hear Peeta shout.

 

“Calm down, boy! Take a breather,” Haymitch yells gruffly.

 

I’m unsure of whether to go upstairs, I don’t know if I’ll make the situation better or worse. Knowing how things work out for me, it’ll turn out worse.

 

“What’re you gonna do, boy? Katniss is worried sick for you!”

 

“I know Haymitch! It’s just- It’s so hard to look in her eyes, to see any disappointment or sadness on her face, and I know it’s because of me.”

 

“I’m sure that she’ll come around, she’ll understand if you talk to her.”

 

“I don’t wanna talk about this. Just get me a drink, I need a break, from her, from all of this.” Peeta mutters.

 

“Finally, something I can help you with.” Haymitch says gruffly.

 

A break? What does he mean, a break?

 

I move from the bottom of the staircase to grab the keys by the door. Once I reach my car, I angrily open the car door and slam it shut.

 

Stepping on the breaks, I speed down the road ahead of me.

 

The sense of rage and frustration I feel is unbelieveable. Drinking? Peeta never drinks. What if he falls down the same path as Haymitch? My mind is racing. Part of me wants to go back and tell him to stop, but another part of me doesn’t care. He said he wanted a break, so I’ll give it to him.

 

I pull into the Odair’s driveway, and clumsily make my way up the steps of the porch and ring the doorbell. My clothes are still soaked through, my hair is wild. Surely, I look crazy.

 

After standing for a few moments, the door creaks open and I see the Annie’s face, eyes wide in shock, her eyebrows raised as high as they go.

 

“Katniss, oh my god, what happened to you?” She gasps before urging me into the house.

 

“It’s Peeta,” I say, my voice weak. “He’s gotten so much worse.”

 

She gives me an anxious look and leads me toward the couch before heading into the kitchen to retrieve a cup of hot tea. Although it’s warm and comforting, it’ll never give me the sense of comfort that I need: Peeta. but I can’t think about him right now.

 

“Tell me what happened,” She orders as she takes her seat across from me on the couch. “Only if you want to, I mean.” She looks embarrassed, but shouldn’t be because I do want to tell her everything. I’m too tired of keeping things bottled up inside. It’s something I’ve gotten used to doing my entire life.

 

I start by telling her about how Peeta had become less affectionate, and as weeks passed, more distant too: He’s hiding away from me, secluding himself from the world thinking he can deal with everything all on his own. I tell her about the flashbacks, the nightmares, the day I thought things might be good again when we spent our time under the willow, but as weeks passed it all changed and things have gotten progressively worse. I miss him, but I also hate him in some way, for shutting me out, leaving me to handle everything alone, not letting me offer him any sort of help. It’s the first time I’ve seen him act so selfish.

 

Once I finish telling her everything, she immediately crosses over and wraps her small arms around me and I start to let out the awful sounds of my sobs.

 

“Katniss, shh, it’s alright. You’re going to be okay.” She strokes my back as I continue to cry in her arms. I feel so vulnerable and weak, something I usually don’t let people see, but I don’t care anymore. If anyone is to understand, it’s Annie.

 

Soon enough, Finnick walks through the front door, looking tired and glum. He looks like he’s aged about ten years from what I can see.

 

“Katniss?” He asks, his eyes grow more alert when he sees the current state I’m in. “What’re you doing here?”

 

“Peeta.” Is all I manage to choke out.

 

He nods his head and gives a sorrowful look. “You don’t have to tell me about it now, but I expect I’ll hear it from Peeta at some point,” He says.

 

I let out a breath of relief. Telling another person is the last thing I want to do right now.

 

“You can stay the night if you need,” Annie offers. “There’s a guest room upstairs. I think you two might need some time apart.”

 

I’ve spent almost a year apart from him. I tell myself bitterly. This only causes a new kind of pain.

 

I nod my head. As much as I love being snuggled up next to Peeta, I know that I need to distance myself. Just like he is. I somewhat hope it makes him hurt, because now he’ll be feeling the same pain that I felt. It’s a cruel way to put things, but I’m too selfish to care.

 

“I’ll grab you some warm clothes and set them on your bed. Down the hall, to your first left.” She says. I thank her and continue to sip the hot tea I hold in my hands.

 

I contemplate whether or not to tell Peeta where I am, or what I’m doing. Surely he’s worried about me, and I can’t help but feel worried for him too.

 

Hesitantly, I slide my phone out of my pack pocket. The screen is still damp from sitting in my wet clothes, but it still works. I text him saying I’m spending the night at Annie’s, that’s it.

 

The guest bed is comfortable enough, and the warm clothes I’m in gives me some kind of contentment, but this feels nowhere near as nice as lying next to Peeta.

 

I look over to the bedside table to see if Peeta’s texted back. Nothing. A bitter feeling enters me; he can’t even respond to my texts, that’s how distant he’s managed to become. Maybe he’s too drunk out of his mind with Haymitch to reply.

 

I remove those bitter thoughts from my head and bring the soft pillow to my face and try to muffle the sounds of my ugly sobs. I want so badly for things to be good again, but I know that it’ll a long road to reach happiness again.

 

My eyes start to feel drowsy, and I’m pulled into a restless slumber that I know isn’t complete without Peeta.


	5. Therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> I apologize for the late update! I'm going to try to update more often as the school year comes to an end. Also, I can't thank you enough for the kind reviews that this story has gotten and to see that it has over 100 followers is amazing. Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.
> 
> Also, big thanks to my beta, Maleday. She has helped me tremendously with this story and I really appreciate it. Thank you for every ounce of effort you have put into this. I can't thank you enough.
> 
> Happy reading!

(Peeta's PoV)

"Peeta?" A voice says. "Peeta, you need to get up, c'mon."

My vision is a blur once I realize I'm awake. My body is sprawled across the couch, surrounded by empty bottles of white liquor. My head throbs painfully, and I struggle to remember what brought me to my current state. The last memory I have is of drinking my pain away with Haymitch, and everything before is foggy.

My eyes meet a pair of deep green orbs that can only be Finnick's.

"W-what are you doing here?" I murmur.

"Katniss came to our house last night to talk with Annie. I asked Annie what was going on and… yeah. I wanted to make sure you were okay so I figured I'd come check up on you."

"Is she okay?" I ask. Images of last night race through my mind: our fight, Haymitch, drinking and Katniss running away without me knowing where she was headed. It's all a nightmare.

"She seemed really upset, Peeta." Finnick sighs.

I'm instantly met with the familiar feeling of guilt in the pit of my stomach. I let out a loud groan and hold my throbbing head in my palms.

"I know," I huff. "It's just been difficult since I've gotten back."

Finnick sits beside me on the old couch and kicks an empty bottle away from his feet.

"You've never been so distant from anyone before, and I'm surprised that of all people, you're distancing yourself from your own wife. What's going on?" He asks. His forehead is creased which clearly shows how concerned he is.

I've never been good at letting out my feelings, but if anyone is to understand, it's Finnick.

"I just...I didn't want to hurt her or scare her away so I thought staying away from her would be the best option. I guess I still messed up either way."

Finnick ponders for a moment, tapping his foot on the ground before speaking.

"I think you need to talk to her, Peeta. This isn't easy for her either. She was a wreck last night and I'm glad we were able to help her out in some way, but I think what she really needs is you." He says.

"I've really screwed up, haven't I?"

Finnick shrugs. "Maybe. But I think you can fix this. I think you just need to communicate with her."

"Does she even want to talk to me anymore?" I ask.

"Peet, she's your wife. Of course she wants to, just tell her what you've told me so far and whatever else you think will make things better between the two of you."

I let out a groan and manage to bring myself to my feet. There's an inescapable pounding in my head, and a stifling sense guilt that follows. My stomach twists and turns while my mind churns with worry and regret. Of all the stupid choices...

"Let's get you a proper drink, okay?" Finnick suggests as he moves towards the kitchen and retrieves a glass, filling it with fresh water.

"Here," he says, passing me the tall glass.

"Thanks," I murmur. The liquid slides down my throat and feels so cool compared to the last thing I had to drink. It had burned its way through my system.

"So, how are you dealing with all this?" I ask, setting the glass down heavily. My voice sounds resentful, and I realize I'm a bit jealous of how well Finnick seems to be holding himself together.

Finnick shifts beside me and ponders for a moment.

"I know I have to be a good husband to Annie and a good father to Finn. Things are tough, yeah, but with therapy and support from my family, I've been able to keep myself together." He says with a shrug.

"Katniss suggested I go to therapy, but… I don't know how I'd handle that." I mutter. The whole idea makes my stomach churn. I've always preferred helping people with their problems, rather than speaking of my own. Keeping my problems bottled up inside is hard, but speaking of them to others seems even worse, for some reason.

"It's not half as bad as you think. The guy I go to, Doctor Aurelius, is pretty good. Maybe we could go together sometime if that would help." He suggests with the raise of an eyebrow.

"I'll think on it." I tell him. The truth is, I really would prefer to deal with my problems on my own. I'm sure I'm beyond help anyway.

"How about you clean yourself up and I'm sure Katniss will be back here later today."

"Did she sleep okay?" I ask. Last night, I can imagine, had been restless for her. All I want is to wrap my arms around her again like we used to, and fall into a dreamless sleep without any pain, but that's not how life is anymore. It's much more complicated than that.

"She's seemed fine. Annie and I haven't really checked on her, but there's been no screaming from what I could hear, and you know I'm a light sleeper."

No nightmares. I let out a sigh of relief and rub my hands up and down my face. Katniss's nightmares had began right after her father passed away, leaving her petrified to go to sleep almost every night. The only way she can fall asleep is if I'm there, or if she takes her unwanted medication.

"Please, when you get back, make sure she's okay?" I plead. I want to go back and tell her how much I love her and want to make things better, but I know that she'll be too stubborn to forgive me. Whenever she's been hurt, she doesn't forget easily. I'm really going to have to prove myself.

"I will, I promise." Finnick tells me reassuringly.

"I think you should dispose of these before Katniss gets back." He says, raising one of the glass bottles and chucking it towards the trash can where it easily makes its way in. He's always had good aim, missing arm or not.

I nod my head. I'd completely forgotten how much of a mess the place is. Bottles of beer and white liquor are spread about the kitchen, some at the feet of the couch I'd been sleeping on. Things had really gotten out of hand: breaking objects, yelling, and I've never drank so much in my life.

Hastily I help pick up the bottles and throw them into the trash. The house reeks, almost as bad as Haymitch's place. I don't know how he can stand it all the time without feeling sick. Well, probably because most of the time, he's too inebriated to notice.

"I need to get out of here." I say. My head still spins and the odor of the house only makes me feel worse.

"Let's take a minute outside okay, bud?" Finnick suggests as he pushes softly against my upper back and leads me onto the front porch. The fresh morning air is a nice awakening.

"That's better." I sigh. There's a cool morning breeze that gently blows against my face and the air is fresh and clean, unlike the air inside where I could only choke on the smell of my own foolish mistakes.

"You know, you could drive back with me right now if you wanted to see her." Finnick says.

I shake my head. "You know how that would end. Katniss needs to come see me on her own. I can't force her to forgive me, and I really need to get washed up before I even think of leaving."

"I guess you're right, and you do smell pretty bad." Finnick chuckles. I elbow him in the side only causing him to release another laugh.

"You get ready and I'll come back later and maybe we can head to Dr. Aurelius's together? I had an appointment today anyway, and he's pretty laid back, so I'm sure you'd be able to join the session without a problem."

My stomach twists in a nervous knot. Surely I'll be able to handle it, maybe I can test it out...but just this once; for Katniss. I tell myself.

"I guess I could give it a try..." I say.

"It'll be good for you," Finnick says, giving me a slap on the back before he makes his way down the porch steps and waves goodbye.

"Finnick!" I shout. He turns to look at me curiously before I continue. "Thank you, for helping me out. I know I can be… stupid sometimes but I'm really glad I have you around." I tell him.

Finnick shakes his head while chuckling to himself, "Anytime, Peet. Give me a call if you need anything." I nod my head and say goodbye before entering the house and letting out a deep breath.

I can still smell the alcohol and stench of my own breath and decide that right now, it'd probably be best to hop in the bath. I easily un-attach my prosthetic and sink down into the tub, letting the warm water surround my sore body. Ever since I lost my leg I've been unable to take showers.

One leg. I cringe. I hate thinking about it, but it's not easy to ignore. How does Katniss love a man with one leg? A man with no confidence. A man whose distant and mentally ill. A man who can't even protect his own wife. I don't get it. I don't deserve her, not by a long shot.

This route of thinking quickly leads to frustration at my whole predicament. I scrub angrily at my coarse hair, letting my nails almost scratch my scalp to nothing.

After finishing, I sit on the edge of the tub and re-attach the ugly metal prosthetic that is my "leg." I slip a pair of old khaki's quickly so that my prosthetic doesn't glare at me any longer.

I make my way to the bathroom cabinet and find the small bottle Zoloft, the pills used to treat my depression, PTSD and anxiety. Taking them helps, but the side-effects are what really bothers me. Drowsiness, nausea on some occasions, sleep problems and even loss of appetite that makes me almost want to give up on these pills all together. But I can't give up, even though I consider it every day.

The whole PTSD thing has changed me beyond belief. Had I known that being in the military would have caused this much stress in my life, I wouldn't have joined in the first place. In fact, I really don't know why I did anyway. Being there was by far the most traumatic experience of my life.

All I see is ways people can hurt me, which is part of the reason why I'm always on guard. Being in the military has changed my route of thinking. Instead of being the laid back, easy person I was before, I'm now constantly afraid- afraid of people around me, afraid that something or someone will hurt me. That's why I distance myself; I'm scared of everything.

A few hours later, sure enough Finnick stands at the front door wearing the same big grin on his face that he always wears.

"Ready to go?" He asks as I slip my jacket on and soon follow him out of the house and into his car.

"I called Doctor Aurelius while I was out and managed to get you in. I think that you need to speak with him yourself, let everything out. My being there will only make you more nervous, I'm sure."

"Great." Is all I can say, my throat suddenly dry. I feel nothing but dread over this therapy session, especially since I'm going to have to face it alone now. Finnick keeps babbling on about how great this therapist is and how he'll be able to help me sort out my problems, but I'm not so sure that I'm willing to open up to a complete stranger.

Finally, the car pulls into an open parking space and we both head towards the doors of the office.

The waiting room in Dr. Aurelius' office is a cold, uninviting, stark white and already, I feel uncomfortable. The white plastic chairs in the waiting room make me feel everything but welcome. I sit uncomfortably, flipping through my phone, trying to avoid conversation, which has become a norm for me.

"Peeta Mellark?" The young woman calls. Finnick quickly rises from his seat and waves for me to follow. My stomach drops to my toes and I feel myself break out into a nervous sweat.

Dr. Aurelius's office comes into view. It's much warmer and more inviting than the depressing waiting room. There's a large wooden desk in the middle of his office with two cushioned chairs placed in front of it and the room is painted a soothing green color.

"Finnick Odair, so nice to see you again. I'm glad to see you've brought your friend as well." He smiles.

"This is Peeta Mellark, who I've spoken to you lots about before." Finnick explains.

I give a curt nod and shake the older man's hand. "Nice to meet you, sir." I say, my voice wavering.

"You as well, Mr. Mellark. Take a seat." He offers with a wide grin.

Dr. Aurelius is an older man, with thin gray hair and sagging jowls but has a kind smile and friendly demeanor to him. I decide that maybe staying won't kill me.

"I'll see you after Peet," Finnick murmurs as he leaves the room and gently shuts the door behind him.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat and twiddle my thumbs nervously, waiting for the doctor to say something, anything.

"Mr. Mellark, it's great to finally meet you. It's such a lovely day out, isn't it? I had a great walk outside this morning before I came to work today. Anyway, onto you, tell me a little bit about yourself." He says with a chuckle as he leans forward in his seat and rests his elbows on his desk.

I'm unsure of what to say, there's really not much to me, though he seems genuinely interested in knowing every detail.

"I'm uh- I was previously in the military before I lost my leg and...I've been married for five years now." My sentence is cut short. There's a nervous tension in the room and I can't seem to get anything out. I rub my sweaty palms against each other to try and ease myself.

"That's all? Tell me what you like to do Peeta, tell me about your family, your life right now. Tell me anything you feel you need to tell me. Let me get to know you." He says.

"Okay uh, sure." I say as I nervously scratch the back of my head. "I like to paint, I've always been pretty good at it. My family runs Mellark's Bakery in town where I used to work. Life was as perfect as it could be before I went into the military, and since then it's never been quite the same." Good enough.

"Oh Mellark's bakery! You must be proud to have your family own such a lovely place."

"It's pretty nice, yeah." I tell him. At least he's friendly.

"Now, what do you think made you realize you needed to seek some kind of therapy?" He asks.

I was forced into it. I want to say. But I keep myself quiet.

"I guess I've just been having a really hard time facing this new disorder." I say with a shrug.

"Post-traumatic stress disorder is very common amongst people who have worked in the military. You're not facing this alone. For some people, it's worse than others, and in some cases it's mild. Would you care to tell me some of your symptoms?"

"Oh, I don't know, depression, anxiety, flashbacks, nightmares and well moodiness, my wife calls me closed off." I say bitterly with a roll of my eyes.

Dr. Aurelius quickly scribbles this information down in his notebook before facing me again. "Any medications you're taking, or ways that you've been able to manage these symptoms?"

"Well, I take Zoloft...and Katniss, my wife, usually helps me out of my flashbacks and nightmares."

"Ah, yes, Katniss Mellark. She's been quite worried about you and had hoped you'd come to therapy sometime." Doctor Aurelius smiles.

When had she called Dr. Aurelius? Behind my back? She'd mentioned I see a therapist before, but didn't tell me she'd been in contact with him.

"Oh, I had no idea. She'd mentioned therapy before, but she has no clue I'm here today. We haven't really been...getting along lately." Dr. Aurelius writes this down as well on his notepad.

"I've heard small details about this from her, but she never gave me anything specific. Would you care to tell me what's been going wrong in your relationship?"

I knew this question would be brought up at one point or another, and talking about it makes me want to vomit because of how much guilt I feel.

"It's me who's the problem. I've been distant from her, and I haven't let her in. I've been keeping to myself and I never tell her my problems anymore. Ever since I've been experiencing nightmares and flashbacks I've wanted to stay distant so I don't scare her away." Unshed tears threaten to escape my eyes. I don't really know where all this is coming from.

"How long has this been going on for?" The doctor asks, his eyebrow raised as he crosses a leg over the other and scoots his chair closer.

I ponder for a moment. "Right after I came back. Ever since I've been having nightmares and flashbacks... I've been worried that one day, they'll become too violent and I'll scare her away. I've tried to keep my distance but that's only made things worse. She...she left last night because she was so upset about it." I say warily.

Memories from last night flood my mind and the same feeling of guilt washes over me again. I wanted so badly to run after her and call her back, but because of the state I was in I knew I'd only end up hurting her even more. I'd drunk with Haymitch until I could barely see, before blacking out into oblivion.

Dr. Aurelius takes quick notes on his notepad again before raising his eyes to me. "How do you feel about coming here with your wife?"

I didn't expect this question.

"I- I don't know. Our relationship isn't really very healthy right now." I say.

"I know that, Mr. Mellark, but I suggest you two pay me a visit andwe can try to fix things. We just have to find a way for the two of you to understand each other. After that, we can focus on your disorder and expose you to some different types of therapy. Does that sound okay?"

I nod my head. I'd never imagined I'd be coming to therapy again, I thought that I'd try it and never want to go back, but something about todays session gave me hope that maybe there is a way to put myself on the right track.

Dr. Aurelius hands me his card. "Give me a call when you'd like to come back. I get that this might be hard for you, as your wife mentioned, but I think that this will be a good thing in the long run, Mr. Mellark." He explains.

"Will do." I tell him.

"It was nice to meet you. Hopefully you'll decide to come back and we can get this sorted out." He gives a genuine smile and rises from his seat to walk me towards the door.

"Thank you, Dr. Aurelius. I'm glad I came." I say. Surprisingly, I'm not lying.

"Anytime."

I let out a sigh of relief. It was no where near as bad as I thought it would be. There was something about Dr. Aurelius that put me at ease. His kind manner and easy conversation wasn't hard to work with.

Finnick waits in the front entrance for me. I give him a shy smile as I make my way toward him.

"So, how was it?"

"Not as bad as I thought. You were right, he's a good guy." I tell him.

"I told you so. See, nothing to worry about is it?" He says before giving me a pat on the back.

"Guess not." I mutter.

I'm left with a feeling of hope; hope that there is chance at a better life- a life without living in constant fear, a life where things can be good again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I apologize for the late update and the lack of everlark in this chapter. I'm going to try and update more consistently as it reaches the end of exams for me. There will also be lots more everlark in the upcoming chapters.
> 
> Let me know what you think about this chapter being in Peeta's PoV. I was nervous to try it out, but I think that it was needed for this story. Review and tell me your thoughts and whether or not you like it being in Katniss' PoV or Peeta's PoV better. Thanks again for reading! Don't forget to let me know what you thought.


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